


...The Brighter the Flame

by OldUn



Category: Vermintide, Warhammer Fantasy
Genre: Gen, Grimdark, Horror, Other, References to Addiction, Self-Reflection, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24196582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldUn/pseuds/OldUn
Summary: I always felt that all our heroes have had more tragic pasts and horrible things that have happened to them than what the game and in-game conversations have told us. The one big thing lacking in Vermintide 2 was character progression, but thankfully the Castle Drachenfels trilogy and the daemon whispers in particular offered some *very* interesting additional insight into the minds and souls of Ubersreik Five. This story was my interpretation on the personality of one Sienna Fuegonasus, and what causes her singular drive to burn things to a cinder.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	...The Brighter the Flame

“... The Brighter the Flame”

“There are two kinds of daemons in the Old World - Real ones, and the all too real ones…” - Excerpt from The Hammer of Witches, Witch Hunter study book, Chapter IV.

Helmgart Keep lies dormant, shrouded by the night and cloaked by the gentle winds of Shadow Magic, Ulgu. Contrast to the gentle lull of Ulgu, the wielder of the Wind of Fire, Aqshy, sleeps restlessly inside her bedroom inside the Keeps tower. Flickering between dormancy and smoldering with passions sleeps the pyromancer Sienna Fuegonasus, trying to get what rest she can before the night is burned away by the fires of morning… Sienna sleeps… and unfortunately for her, she also dreams… She dreams of her past.

Sienna has always seen herself as a woman of many talents. She has a sharp tongue to lash at people and a keen mind to find the chinks in someone's armour. She sees herself as brave, if not even brazen occasionally. She tries to take the world for what it is and enjoy the good things whenever she can. A good dinner, a raunchy joke, a bottle of wine, the thrill of the dance. What she also has, undoubtedly, is power.

With a flick of her wrist and a snap of her finger, mixed with some concentration and she is capable of having flames dancing at her fingertips. By focusing it, she can channel it into a firestorm. How could she explain it best to those uninitiated in the Art? How could she explain what it means to walk within her own fire? She always starts from easy things. Simple things. You´ve seen a campfire? How it provides warmth for your body and comfort against the night? Or you have seen how blacksmiths use fire to melt and mold steel under their will and their hammers to craft plows and swords? Most would think that fire is a tool. Most would be sorely mistaken. For perhaps you´ve had the misfortune of witnessing a wildfire, grown out of control? Witnessed the aftermath of burnt trees and landscape turned to black and soot? Truly that must have been a terrifying sight to behold. Yet despite what people generally consider fire to be, she would know it better, more intimately. For her, fire would mean all those things, but oh so much more…

For if there is one thing she knows, she knows she has mastery over the Wind of Fire. She has actual power. Not just the kind of power withered old fools dream of having in their lofty castles, commanded by money or title or favours owned. Not whatever feeble power witch hunters use to extract crude confessions, but actual, intoxicating power. The power to melt even the thickest armor by the fury of her Art, the Power to scorch flesh and boil blood. The power to burn a man, no… armies to cinder and then ash, boiling marrow until it seeps from cracked bone, and is shortly scattered to the winds… The power to punish and the power to defend. The power to cauterize wounds and the power to light fire in the darkness. And what a rush it is indeed! Have you ever tried to understand it? What would it be like? She was amused when she heard men tell stories of the sound of battle and the deafening thumps of your heart beat silencing your doubts and fears. But to have your doubts be silenced by the roar of the Wind of Fire? … Aqshy… She calls to it, whispering it over and over again, like a lover´s name in the Dark. Much like a prayer. Much like her gospel… And what she would never admit to herself in her waking hours, much like self-deception…

What she adamantly refuses to accept is that despite all the power Aqshy now warrants her, it cannot undo her past. It cannot undo the abuse she suffered at the hands of men when she was a young girl and the flame did yet not flicker in her veins. It cannot undo the grievous joy she felt when she finally had her vengeance on those who had wronged her. It cannot unhear the warnings she heard over and over and over again Old Rambler tell her. It cannot take back what she did to him… It cannot roar loud enough to silence the whispers telling her that he was right… And despite what Saltzpyre says, she is not an addict. How could he ever understand…

She loves her power. Not because of being drunk on the power Aqshy grants her, but because when she becomes lost to the roaring of Aqshy, surrounded by the sounds of battle and scorching her enemies, the Flames may yet roar loud enough to silence the screams she hears at Night… Before she learned to control it and they burned… Oh, how they burned.... And once again she gasps and the screams she hears in her mind echo with the sound of her own as she awakens… And there is only Her and the deafening roar of the flame, rushing out from her and… She is awake. The dream is gone… Burned away by the same instinct she always finds herself taking whenever she feels threatened… And so… Slowly, she takes a moment to re-acquire herself and find her bearings… Funnily enough, she thinks… Didn't she use to have walls and a roof around her room, where she now sees sunlight slowly breaking the sky?

The last thing she dares let herself think before she regains control of herself again is that despite all her self-proclaimed mastery over the fire, there is one thing she never did quite get about Fire. For if there are to be flames, they need fuel to burn. What had she lost so far, being kindling? Were she aware of it, would she be saddened that all the Flame inside her has dried up all her tears? For amongst the lessons Old Rambler tried to teach her one truth remained. The Brighter the Flame, the Deeper the Shadow it casts..."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this little story of mine and I hope you enjoyed it :)


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